


The « Can we keep  readin’ despite this vibratin’ » game.

by FrenchCaresse



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Bisexual Link, Edgeplay, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, On Set, Porn with Feelings, Power Dynamics, Protective Rhett, link has secrets, remote control butt plugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:04:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchCaresse/pseuds/FrenchCaresse
Summary: "We need to talk about this.” Rhett answered Stevie. He meant "we" as in Link and himself, not "we" the production team."In which Link is kinky, Rhett is oblivious and remote-controlled butt-plugs are employed for internetainment.





	1. The horrible terrible brilliant idea

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, new fandom! I haven't written in ages.  
> But this story was persistent, and annoying, and stuck in my head for close to a year. So yeah. I wrote porn. Again. And I couldn't help some angsty bits working their way into the beginning. Again. 
> 
> WARNING; this is a work of fiction. I do not know Rhett and Link anymore than I knew sparkly vampires or sadistic android Masters or brooding detectives. In no way am I implying any of this is true, or even a possibility. For the sake of my sanity, I refuse to admit that this is RPF and am treating the characters like any others.

“No.” 

“Link...” Stevie started to protest, only to be immediately cut off.

“No.”

Stevie shot a sideways glance at Rhett that clearly meant « _help_ _me_ », except Rhett wasn’t even sure he actually _wanted_ to move forward with her idea. What resulted was a long anxious pause during which Rhett mulled over the proposed segment, Link seemed to solidify in his stubborness, frowning with his arms crossed, and Stevie just patiently picked at a crack in the table-top, long curtain of blond hair partially obscuring her face. 

It was a good game idea, Rhett had to give them that. He could easily imagine the intro graphic to “Can we keep readin’ despite this vibratin’ ” game. It was catchy and just intriguing enough. He could also see the view counter exploding and how the video would make trending, for sure. Rhett had a feel for that now, after all those years. Heck he would have clicked on it, if he watched any youtube. Just... they’d done so many stupid things for the internet already... He could understand why Link clung to whatever tiny scrap of dignity they had left.

”We need to talk about this.” Rhett answered Stevie. He meant _we_ as in Link and himself, not _we_ the production team.

Stevie nodded briskly, picking up her note-pad to address the next point on her list. Stevie was good. She knew when to back off; if you pushed Link passed a certain point, he just dug in and refused to budge and you got nowhere.

...

”No.”

”Link, man, come on. Think about it. It will go wild.” Rhett stretched his long legs out, swiveling his desk chair.

Link stared fixedly at his computer screen, but his shoulders were tight and up around his ears.

Rhett watched him, and waited quietly. No arguing, no agressiveness. Letting the expectant silence build, until Link grudgingly grumbled “I know.”

Blue eyes behind thick-framed glasses flicked straight up to his. Rhett swallowed. He was good at reading Link, but this time there was too much emotion swirling in there; Rhett couldn’t even begin to piece what the issue bugging his friend was.

”But no.” Link finished, turning back to his screen. 

Rhett got back to writing lyrics.

...

”I said No.”

Link sounded breathless and annoyed, but the hard underlying bedrock of stubborness was eroding somewhat, Rhett could tell.

”Research department found a vibrating toilet seat.” Rhett panted.

Rhett was breathless too. Jumping on a trampoline in a ball gown did that to you.They weren’t twenty anymore, gosh.

”What?” Link paused with the water bottle halfway to his mouth. His face was red and his glasses were sliding off his nose.

Rhett pushed his advantage.

”Yup. E-bay, man.” He tugged the spaghetti strap of the red monstrosity that barely fit him back up.

Link was thinking. Rhett could see the gears turning; this was good.

”But... who would want to have a vibrating toilet seat... I mean... can you imagine the mess if your vibrating shook your pee stream? Or worse? ” Link stared off into space, and Rhett knew his mind was running away with the possibilities.

“Dunno...” Rhett turned away so Link didn’t see the smile he couldn’t stop.

“ Maybe it’s meant as a prank?” He proposed.

Rhett began to bounce slowly toward the edge of the trampoline, where multicolored foam balls where being dumped into a swimming pool.

”You’re the toilet seat afficiando!” He shouted over his shoulder, just to hear Link’s indignant screech.

Rhett was grinning ear-to-ear now, and so was Link.

”Still no.” Link called, but there was laughter threaded through his voice.

...

The problem with Link stubbornly refusing to do something was that it made Rhett instinctively want to do it. And convince Link to do it. Some childish competitive streak in him needed to push the limits.

So while Rhett didn’t even really know how he felt about the “Can we keep readin’ despite this vibratin’ “ game, he was strategising on how to make Link agree, which... didn’t make sense actually. Because if Link did it, he’d have to do it too.

Fuck.

...

“Stevie wants us to do butt-plugs.”

The comment came completely out of the blue, but Rhett wasn’t fazed much. He was used to the way Link’s brain mulled stuff over in a slow boil at the back of his stream of consciousness, random bubbles coming up suddenly in the form of strange remarks. The trick was to keep a running list of conversations with Link that had gone nowhere in the back of his own mind, so he could pick up where they’d left off.

Rhett’s fingers paused for a beat in his blond hair, then when back to swirling it into the perfect shape.

”I know.” He shrugged with fake nonchalance. 

“ _Vibrating_ butt-plugs.” Link stressed. He was pressing too close, anxiously invading Rhett’s personal space; Rhett could smell the coffee on his breath.

Rhett rolled his eyes. 

“I know. _Everyone_ reading the title will know. That’s why it will go viral.”

Link spread his lips and peered at his teeth in the mirror, in _Rhett’s_ mirror, checking for specks of salad probably. It was kinda gross, seeing his gums like that. Link had a really big mouth.

”We can just... not do it. Even if the fans expect it. There’s lots of other vibrating stuff out there; just ask Jen about the animatronic cockroaches... There’s no law saying we HAVE to do butt-plugs.”

Rhett had to force the word butt-plug out of a tight throat, struggling to maintain a mature and professional image. He wasn’t a twelve year old, for God’s sake. He could say the word butt-plug and not blush.

Link’s eyes were too intense in the mirror, and it was Rhett who looked away, swallowing.

”That’s, like, so click-baity I can’t even...” Link bristled.

Rhett knew Link’s work ethic well; it was no surprise that Link wouldn’t want to mislead the viewers like that.

Rhett rinsed the sticky product from his fingers, realizing he was rather disappointed not to have that option.

Fuck, Rhett wanted to pick the easy way out. Much more than he’d let himself acknowkedge.

He didn’t want to do butt-plugs. Rhett was straight. He was boringly vanilla. No matter what wild fantasies fans cooked up, the most adventurous Rhett had gotten was some outdoor sex in the woods with his wife. He had certainly never tried a butt-plug.

Now that he was really considering it, wearing a vibrating butt-plug in front of millions of viewers seemed like a spectacularly bad idea. 

Rhett walked to the studio deep in thought, pondering if the viewer’s outrage at being click-baited was worse than the humiliation of trying out a butt-plug. A vibrating butt-plug.

Fuck.

At least, Link was sure to lose the game.

...

The problem with Rhett wanting to back out of something was that it made Link instinctively want to do it. And convince Rhett to do it. Some childish competitive streak in him needed to push the limits.

Link didn’t actually have a problem with the concept of butt-plugs. Or even with using one on himself.

He had a problem with losing his self-control in front of the viewers.

Maybe he could keep it together? Could he take that chance?

He had the advantage here; Rhett was the butt-plug virgin. Boy, was he in for a surprise.

Rhett was sure to lose the game.

...

“You could just fake it.” 

Somehow, the “ Can we keep readin’ despite this vibratin’ “ game was still coming up sporadically in meetings. It was too good to be dropped completely and they all knew it.

Both Rhett and Link’s heads whipped up to Stevie in disbelief. She shrugged.

”It’s not like the mythical beasts are actually going to see if you have a vibrating plug in your pants! You could just pretend. You’ve worn shock collars before, just make the same faces.”

Stevie actually sounded reasonable saying that.

”No.” The answer rang final and unanimous, a brief glance between Rhett and Link confirming they were both on the same page.

They didn’t fake it.

Ever.

...

There was a bird making a heck of a racket in the bushes. Link squinted, peering into the weird not-quite-night grey light just after sunset. Not pitch black, but definately not bright enough to make out much except for the squiggly silhouettes of spindly branches. No matter. He could hear the thing well enough, even if he couldn’t see it.

Link sank back down onto his lounge chair.

He breathed in the mindful way he’d learned, letting tension bleed out of him on deep exhales. It had been a long week; sixteen-hour overscheduled days that blended together in a whirl of stress and activity. They had shot segments one after the other at a frantic pace, until Link could hardly keep up. It had been tough. On him, on Rhett, on the team; it had strained them all, but they had done it. They had enough footage now to cover the final dates on the road added to the Tour of Mythicality. The rest was in the editor's hands, and Link was good now at letting go and trusting the crew.

The California breeze was refreshing and the water in Rhett’s pool made soft lapping noises. The screen slid with a metallic rattle and Rhett was back, dropping into the other chair with a groan. He handed over an ice-cold beer, setting two extras on the patio stones by his feet.

Time floated as they watched the darkening night, unwinding together. The kids were in the house having a playstation show-down; Link could hear muffled shrieks and laughter. Christy and Jessie were probably doing the dishes and finishing the wine. 

Link relaxed, savoring the moment.

They were nearing the end of their second beers when Rhett spoke softly.

”We need to talk about the butt-plug game.”

“Yes.” Link answered, steady and calm. They _did_ need to talk about it. This was a good time, Rhett was right.

”Why don’t you want to do it?” Rhett asked, turning towards Link.

Link took a deep breath, sifting through his motivations and fears.

”I... I don’t want to lose control like that. Not in front of all those people.”

Rhett laughed, but it was a sound of fondness and Link couldn’t get angry about it.

”Dude, you’ve puked and screamed and been electrocuted and waxed and covered in goo and god knows what else for the views. How is this different?”

Link was getting anxious, sitting up with his bent legs splayed like a giant grasshopper. He started picking at the label on his beer with short fingernails. He wasn’t closing up though, and Rhett knew from long experience that he needed to stay silent and wait.

”Because.” Link’s eyebrows curled into an uneasy frown. He managed to tease the corner of his beer label up and began to slowly peel it off the sweating glass.

Rhett waited some more.

”Because.”

Link was wrestling with admitting something big. The anticipation made it hard to wait. Rhett wanted to soothe his friend, hug him maybe or change the subject. He didn’t.

Rhett waited.

”Because I never took pleasure in any of that stuff.” Link mumbled in a rush.

“All of it. The grossness, the pain, the cross-dressing, whatever. It was always for fun. It was almost against my will, sometimes; the only thing pushing me was you. I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t necessarily enjoy it, and the fans know it.” Now that he’d started, Link’s words rushed fast and clipped.

”We keep the show pretty PG. There is enough speculation about... about our sexuality as it is, why would you want to confirm what people are already thinking?”

Link had completely removed the soggy label by that point and was meticulously shredding it into thin strips. His hands shook.

”Link likes buttt-pluuugsss!” Link sang in a piercing imitation of a child’s mockery. His voice cracked at the end and he fell silent, balancing his little strips of paper into a wobbly pile on the chair’s arm.

Rhett took a moment to digest that. He finished his luke-warm beer. Stared at the stars, and what he could see of his neighbor’s garage.

”Maybe... you won’t like it?” He asked.

It was a weak response, deflecting from the real issue, and Rhett knew it. But he needed to say something and he hadn’t processed the internalized homophobia that had spilled from the crack in Link’s armor yet. Rhett suspected he might need time, and maybe a session with his therapist for that; he could hear the same sentiment echoing inside himself.

“All that hype about anal, maybe it’s just millenial bullshit?”

Rhett meant it as a joke, but it sure fell flat. His buddy didn’t even crack half a grin.

Link just wrung his hands, staring at the blackness of the pool before morosely saying “I’ll like it.”

”Ok.” Rhett sat up straighter too, gearing up for a debate. 

“Ok maybe, like, we’ll get hard. No-one will know. The table will hide it and we can wear long shirts.” 

“People will _know_.” Link whined.

”Not for sure, they won’t. They’ll think. They’ll wonder. They’ll guess. But they won’t know-know.” Rhett was getting animated, defending his opinion. This was familiar, pitching an idea back and forth. It felt good.

Link was silent but Rhett could tell that he was making darn good points.

”And if we do get hard, I mean damn, it’s not like it will be the first time you had an inappropriate boner. Remember Mrs White?”

Link's head snapped up at that, just like Rhett knew it would.

”Shut up!” Link hissed. He threw a paper strip at Rhett; it fluttered pretty miserably and landed on the ground. Link huffed, but a smile still twinkled in his eyes. 

“Jerk.” Link added for good measure.

Some of the tension finally left him though, which was a good sign. There was a long moment of contemplation. The bird in the bushes had quieted, thank goodness, Link noticed. The sky was dark. The night gave him courage.

”There’s no if, man.” Link admitted. “ I’m going to get hella hard.”

”You don’t know that!” Rhett argued. “Maybe a butt-plug doesn’t feel good at all.”

”No.” Link was very resolutely avoiding looking at Rhett. “It doesn’t feel just good. It’s... overwhelmingly pleasurable.”

The southern drawl picked up in Link's voice for a second, the accented _wh_ sounding breathy and... like home. Rhett's brain was focusing on stupid things, trying to avoid the bigger issue. Link sounded so sure, which could only mean...

”Link?” Rhett began.

Link shuddered, refusing to look at his childhood friend.

”And if that thing vibrates...” Link’s heart was beating too fast and arousal throbbed low in his belly, just thinking about it.

“If the plug vibrates and, huh," Link’s breath hitched, betraying him, but he managed to sound mostly composed as he finished the sentence. “And it has a remote control and _someone_ _else_ is deciding the intensity of the vibrations, I’ll be lucky if I don’t nut my pants on camera.” 

Links voice choked off, finally; his face burned and there was a rushing sound in his ears.

He wished the ground would do the proverbial _swallowing_ _whole_ thing. 

Link felt burning red-hot from the roots of his greying hair down to the soles of his flip-flopped feet. Yet through the haze of humiliation there was a certain rush of relief. 

He’d done it, he’d told Rhett that he enjoyed anal stimulation!

After a second or two, Link couldn’t take the stress anymore. He bounded up from his chair, mumbled about needing more beer, fumbled for the empties and headed towards the house.

The breather was good; it allowed Link to get his head screwed on straight again and avoid a panic attack.

Link kissed his wife’s hair in passing, made sure the kids weren’t killing each other and splashed water on his face after taking a piss. 

Done.That was the hardest bit, he decided. He’d done it. He’d told Rhett.

Link didn’t care much about the opinion of strangers. His therapist had really helped on that front; Link mostly accepted himself as he was now, and he dealt with the pressure of constant judgement much better.

Still, it had taken until he was almost thirty-six for Link to admit that yeah, he definately had some deeply kinky fantasies. Another six months had passed before he was confident that he actually wanted to try BDSM for real; this forbidden desire that simmered inside him was too big a part of his sexuality to lie dormant forever.

Christy, bless her, had been sweet and supportive through Link’s teary babbling. And while clearly she couldn’t really understand Link’s yearning for it to _hurt_ _so_ _good_ during sex, she had accepted it better than Link could have imagined. It turned out that hints of his curiosity had been shining through the cracks of his control for years. Unless his wife just knew him really well, which was also true. 

Christy knew Link well enough at least, to understand that his experimentation needed to happen, and also that this was not about his loyalty to their vows. Link was a stubborn man, and Christy was quite sure that if he had shared this with her, it must have been eating at him. Probably for years.

So she had listened, and thought about it, and encouraged him to find a professional to explore this with. They had spent many surreal evenings together searching for the right ad. 

It had to be a man, there was never any question of that. Link couldn’t even begin to imagine submitting to a woman.

His first nervous experience had been life shattering, like taking his first breath. Link had needed it. God, the relief of finally _finally_ giving in had been overwhelming.

Yup. There was no question about it; Link needed this.

He was careful though.

It would be to easy to let himself get completely consumed. Link needed structure, walls to ground himself.

They had decided on one whole night, every three months. Link loved Christy and his family; he still very much desired his wife. He had years of practice cramming the urges away into a box; to give himself the freedom to dream about it, in the secret of his own head, was unbelievably liberating. The luxury of even a few nights to completely lose himself guilt-free felt like the greatest of gifts.

Kris was the perfect dom for him, with a dry sense of humor and an unnerving capacity to see through Link’s bullshit. He took Link apart thoroughly, until his body convulsed and his mind stopped working.

It had taken three more years of having kinky sex with a man before Link was able to admit to himself that he might be bisexual.

Strange, that.

Most people dealt with their sexual orientation before being edged to tears by a dude, he thought. And yet he was so deep in denial that even being fucked until he couldn’t breathe hadn’t seemed gay to him.

Once Link’s stupid thick brain had ackowledged the idea, it had been easy to simply pay attention to how he reacted.

Link mostly favored women, sexually. But he could now comfortably tell himself he was curious or attracted to men once in a while. He was okay with it. And he didn’t feel the need to explore that aspect of himself any further. He had Christy. And he had Kris, four times a year. Which yes, that WAS funny, Christy and Kris. Ha.

Link had found balance.

And mercifully, Link had never been attracted to Rhett.

Ever.

Rhett was his best friend. His brother.

And Link was very much relieved that he could in all honesty say he was not attracted to him.

Still, admitting that he’d done, no _enjoyed_ anal to his best friend was almost harder than telling his wife he wanted to be tied down. They were Carolina boys, born and bred. Rhett had the same hold-ups Link had, even if California had chipped away at their stereotypes and prejudices. It’s just... it was okay for _others_ to be gay, or kinky. It had taken him a good long time to be all right with _himself_ being what years of church-school had taught him was deviant and sinful.

But he’d gotten there, eventually. And Link had just taken another big step towards accepting himself. He hadn't come out to Rhett, and he didn't want to either. Still, confessing to not being as straight and narrow as Rhett thought he was... It was a step in the right direction.

Link mentally patted himself on the back, told himself to grow a pair and went back out to face Rhett.

He promptly went back in though, realizing he’d forgotten the beers. Then he stumbled on a stupid pool noodle that was lying in wait in the dark, so that he fell awkwardly onto his chair with a yelp, red-faced and clocking himself on the lip with a beer bottle.

Ow.

So much for poise and confidence, fuck.

Rhett looked amused, carefully twisting the cap on his beer and taking a swig.

“So... it’s not hypothetical for you, is it? You’ve used a butt-plug before?”

Link nodded solemnly, then yelped as beer fizzed over his hand and fucking _everywhere_ , dripping cold and wet all over his lap before he could hurriedly stretch to hold the bottle over the patio.

Shit shit shit, of course the bottle had been shaken up when he nearly face-planted! They both watched the impressive stream of foam that erupted from the neck of the bottle until it finally petered out.

Rhett was dying of laughter at Link’s annoyed swearing. Link stuck his tongue out at him as he shook his wet hand, then sniffed it in disgust.

”Dude, if you fall in...” Rhett wheezed as Link precariously bent over to rinse his fingers in the in-ground pool.

”Fuck you, man.” Link protested flatly, flicking pool water at Rhett.

Link was making disturbing sipping noises, trying to slurp froth from the neck of the bottle to get to the beer below when Rhett finished his earlier thought.

”Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Link looked up at him, eerily beautiful in the shimmery light reflected from the pool. His eyes were hidden behind the dark windows of his glass lenses.

”No.” Link answered solemnly, moving back towards his chair. He didn’t need to share that aspect of himself with his best friend.

Rhett mulled over the refusal, eventually asking “Why didn’t you tell me?” There was a hint of hurt there, even if Rhett was trying not to be accusing.

Link understood that Rhett might feel rejected. But he was certain of his choice.

”It’s... not a part of our friendship. It would make things weird.”

Rhett was quiet, swirling his beer before nodding.

”Okay.” He agreed.

Silence fell, and the cacaphonous croaking of frogs replaced the lone bird in the bushes. Rhett was boiling over with curiosity, probably inventing scenarios with Christy and anal vibrators that were actually pretty tame compare to the reality.

Let him assume, Link thought, slowly nursing his half-full beer.

The frogs kept at it. Mating calls. Horny buggers, the lot of them.

Another long comfortable time passed without a word. Link was getting sleepy and a bit chilled by the time Rhett unfolded himself from the chair to head back in. He felt... settled. Like he could finally breathe. He was looking forward to his bed. Plus, his pants smelled like beer.

”So was that why you didn’t want to do butt-plugs?” Rhett asked. “Because you didn’t want me judging you for liking it? “

Link nodded. “I think so, yeah. The crew too, but mostly you yeah."

”So, we’re doing it then? The “Can we keep readin’ despite this vibratin” game?” Rhett confirmed.

Link nodded again. “Guess so.”

He stood up. “We’re gonna need to work out a plan with Stevie though. I WON’T cum in my pants in front of millions. Like, a signal or something, if it gets too much.”

Rhett’s head bobbed, his beard catching the golden light from the open door.

“Good idea.” He shrugged. “Who know’s maybe I’M the one who’ll need it!”

Link choked up with a rush of affection. Rhett had not pushed for more; he had not questioned or judged. He’d just accepted, and trusted Link’s judgement. Link was dizzy with gratitude. He grabbed blindly at Rhett, ending up with a firm grip on Rhett’s fore-arm. 

“Thanks, man.” Link forced the words out passed the knot in his throat. He knew Rhett could hear the tears he was holding back, but at that point he didn’t even care. 

Rhett paused, looking at him for a long intense moment before squeezing his hand over Link’s on his arm.

”I got your back, bro. We’re doing this together.” He promised gently.

Link nodded vigorously, sniffed hard and pretended he could see where he was going until the tears dried unshed.


	2. Toilet seats, cockroaches and butt plugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it!
> 
> I had way too much fun writing a full GMM episode, and then diving back into Link’s psyche and then the prep grew into it’s own thing and... well... this has now become chapter 2 of 3.
> 
> Explicit content follows.

The butt-plug was purple.

Not some deep mystic violet or a sweet pastel lilac; the butt-plug was a disappointingly generic purple. It had no wow-factor whatsoever.

Link sighed.

The toy was bland and somewhat sad; it had the dusty vibe of a discounted butt-plug, like it might be last year's model, languishing half-priced in the bargain section.

Link sighed again, louder and with more dramatic flair.

No-one heard him but the stupidly fashionable grey tile of the second bathroom. It smelled faintly of industrial cleaners in here.

Link reasoned that he should be happy the props department was saving money.

Still, part of him wanted the butt-plug that would ruin his life to be more... epic. A menacing matte black maybe. Or a vibrant red. Semi-transparent purple jelly, that did not quite hide the outline of the white bullet vibrator nestled inside, was just so... anticlimactic. 

Link tried another, more discrete, sigh; _meh, boring_. He it paired it with a carefully manicured moue of disdain. _Better_. His reflection blinked silently back at him in the mirror.

Damn, why was this moment so _ordinary_?

Link was alone in the staff bathroom; no-one was here to appreciate his theatrical antics.

He was procrastinating.

Link needed to stop being a wimp and just put the goddamn purple plug up his butt.

...

“Being a newscaster is a tough job. You have to keep reading no matter what! But would we make good anchor-men? Exactly how distractable are we?”

Rhett’s eyes slid to his co-worker as he leaned forward over the desk. It could be hard to read him sometimes.

Link brightly closed the intro, adding eyebrow effects to their trademark ”Let’s talk about that!”

They both sat back in their chairs, waiting while cameras were re-organized and the toilet was rolled in.

Link sighed.

It was a really good sigh, Rhett thought; equal parts exasperation and trepidation, with a dash of vulnerability.

Nearly two months had passed since they had agreed to the project. This was the last shoot on a Thursday afternoon. After the segment, Rhett and Link had time off until monday. They were pretty sure Stevie had planned this on purpose; it would give everyone a chance to cool off if anything awkward happened.

Stevie was a great producer.

Stevie had horrible ideas that would end in the ultimate humiliation.

...

Rhett continued trying to interpret Link’s body language as they got the show rolling.

Gosh, Link was a wild-card.

He was just so agitated and uncoordinated _normally_ that it was hard to tell if today was any worse!

Rhett watched him in the monitor. Link’s blue eyes sparkled and he smiled real wide with a cackle. Did he usually smile that big? 

He sure _seemed_ like he was in his groove, explaining the rules of the game.

It was easy. Every missed word was worth a point. Stop reading completely and you lost three points. The man with the most points would have to eat an _actual_ newspaper in More. Josh had shredded it into spaghetti, topped with marinara and a meatball.

Links hands were flying everywhere, and he fiddled with the gold band he wore. This was also kinda normal, for Link.

Rhett thought he could detect a shimmering tension emanating from his best friend, carefully contained and hidden under a thick layer of playfulness. Jiggling his knee like he was doing was nothing new either. 

Link was nervous, Rhett thought. There wasn’t one specific sign that gave it away, he decided. Rhett could _feel_ it, deep in his gut, through the undescribable instinct a lifelong friendship had developped.

Unless he was just projecting.

Of course Link was nervous, just like Rhett; this was crazy stuff, blowing them out of the comfort zone of their usual stupid tricks!

Rhett swallowed hard. They could always veto publication if they had to.

Sometimes, their videos revealed a bit too much. It was tough; to connect with viewers, you had to get personal and reveal things about yourself. But having millions of people dissecting your every move was not the best for your own mental health. There was a fine line between their public personality and who they really were, and shoots like this blurred the boundaries.

Rhett realized that trying to analyze Link’s every action was pointless. He was looking for reassurance that he was not alone in his own anxiety.

 _Be_ _present_ , Rhett internally scolded himself. _Go_ _with_ _it_! 

“Rhett, do you know what we’ll be reading?” Link asked, words pushed with the slight edge of over-enthusiasm of his full-blown stage persona.

”No Link, I don’t.” Rhett answered drily.

Link did a little bobbing head-motion thing that should have been annoying or silly, but was mostly endearing.

“Tell me, what will we be reading while we’re being vibrated, I mean distracted?”

”It’s genius. We’re reading about the string theory, by Stephen Hawking. Get it?” Link laughed excitedly, leaning forward to make direct eye-contact with the camera.

Rhett’s answering smile was geniune. He opened his mouth, caught a glimpse of Link’s wide-eyed alarm and shut it. It would be too easy to imitate the man. Link was right. Stephen Hawking was a genius to be admired, even if his odd way of communicating was like a comedic dream. Best leave it at the subtle humor level.

“Get it? Get it? “ Link repeated, covering the pause and okay, now he was all up in Rhett’s space. He was definately anxious; Link grew more tactile the more stress he was under. His hair smelled really nice.

“Vibrations? String Theory?”

”Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Rhett ran his fingers through his hair. “We went to college together, remember?”

Rhett added a wink for the audience.

“It’s also not an easy book to read!” Rhett continued. “Even the simplified version meant for the general public has tons of long-ass scientific terms and really long sentences. We won’t be able to fake this, dude. We will really find out if we would make good anchor-men.” Rhett laid his hand on Link’s shoulder in a squeeze of mock consolation. God, the man was tense; this was also nothing new.

”Wait, whaaattt?” Link’s pitch increased with excitement and he leaned out of Rhett’s grasp. “You’ve read the book?”

Rhett shrugged. “Parts of it, anyway.”

Link goggled at him, until he felt obliged to clarify “Mostly the beginning.”

”But that’s not fair, man, that’s like cheating! Steeeviiee...” Link slumped in his seat, then straightened with a jolt. “You know what? Never mind. I’m going to win anyway.”

”Actually...” Stevie’s smooth voice in the god-mic intervened. “We won’t be reading that book because, of, well, copyright reasons. We’ll be reading text from wikipedia ON the theory. So it’s still anybody’s game!”

”Speaking of which...” Rhett made a sweeping hand gesture towards the toilet, pleased to see camera two pan accordingly.

“Round one!”

...

The vibrating toilet seat was frankly disappointing. It caused a muted throbbing that wasn't even remotely close to the intense shaking they had all imagined.

Even if Link squealed a few times when blue lights started flashing underneath the rim, the round was uneventful and the score was zero to zero.

...

Link lost the animatronic cockroach round.

He hated the clear plastic pants, and the robot insects seemed to have the same idea as the real ones had.

“Oh. Ohh” Link had been jittery even before the robot critters were dumped into his crotch with a soup ladle.

”Ha! Ha! That’s so weeeiirrrd! Ugh." Link twitched. A lot. He was having a hard time remaining half-reclined on the massage table; bugs in your pants did that to a man.

Rhett was having a hard time controlling his staring; bugs in your best friend’s pants did that to a man.

Rhett was full-on crotch watching. The inch-long brown plastic bugs circling over his friend’s black underwear were oddly fascinating. 

“Go!” Stevie called.

Link blinked at the cards in his hand.

“ String theory predicts the existence of gravitons and their well-defined interactions.” He began, in a deep soothing rumble that would actually be a believable anchor-man voice.

“A gravi-uh-graviton in perturbative string theory...” Link’s voice was growing tighter and his head tossed back.

“Ii-iiis a closed string in hah...” Link was struggling; a sharp giggle escaped him and he wiggled his hips.

”In a very particular low-energy vibrational state.”

Link broke, arching on the table and picking at the pants.

”Ooooouuuh. Ooouuh! One of them is trying to get into...Oh!” Link panted, shifting his torso about with little effect on what was happening below his navel.

He made eye contact with Rhett, _finally_ , who urged him to “Focus man, you can do it. Finish the card.”

Link nodded, taking a deep breath. Rhett could see him gathering himself.

When Link started again, he spoke fast, direct and efficient. Clearly, he was determined to get the ordeal over with.

“The scattering of gravitons in string theory can also be computed from the correlations functions in conformal field theory, as dictated by the ADS/CFT correspondence, or from ma-matrix theory. Hah.” Link slammed the cards down on the table; he was flushed and wide-eyed.

Rhett’s mumble of “What does the Matrix have to do with this?” was buried under Link’s “OH IT’S IN, oh oh gooosh. Ok that’s enough, Gah. Stop! Stop!” Link shot up from his position, hopping about shaking his leg with distressed noises. He buried his arm elbow-deep into the plastic pants, reaching up the hem of his boxer briefs and flashing enough wiry thigh that Rhett swallowed before extracting a rogue vibrating plastic insect.

“Ah. Ah! Why do those things ALWAYS get into my shorts! Golly!”

Rhett lost it, laughing uncontrollably, so Link very maturely threw the offending critter at him.

He missed.

The animatronic cockroach landed on the floor, did a surprisingly quick 360-degree turn and scurried away underneath the couch while both co-hosts watched uncomprehending.

“Oops?” Link commented apologetically, making a crooked face for the camera.

...

Of course, none of the animatronic cockroaches got under _Rhett’s_ underwear. So the giant blond man had no issue at all finishing his text. Link rolled his eyes when Rhett complained about how the tiny plastic feet yanked on his leg hair- which they did. He shoud try one in his _pubic_ hair!

Life was not fair to Link. 

And the score after round two was seven for Link, One for Rhett.

...

Thank god Rhett was ticklish as hell. He lasted less than a minute of random poking with the wand before curling up on his side, shaking with that deep belly laugh that warmed Link to his toes. Alex was a genius, to have worked the massager into Rhett’s armpit.

Link jolted and jerked at the vibrations, especially behind his knee. Behind his knee? Seriously? Who did that?

Chase apparently.

But Link hadn't missed a line, even if his voice had wobbled from high to low. The score evened out somewhat; still seven for Link against five for Rhett.

...

Which brought Link to this moment; pushing his pants down his lean thighs in preparation for insertion.

The purple butt-plug wasn't even that big.

Girth-wise it was on the slimmer side, although the rounded tip might prove problematic if it pressed on his prostate. 

Link had the dubious ability to orgasm hands-free through anal stimulation.

Multiple times.

Life was not fair to Link.

...

Rhett stared at the butt-plug.

It was purple.

And it was freaking huge!! 

He wondered how Link was doing.

Rhett took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. He ran over the mental check-list of steps on “how to insert a butt-plug” his private research had provided.

Rhett pushed his joggers off; the crew had kindly provided lube. Rhett grimaced at the large rectangular tupperware container.

He supposed the situation could have been worse. He might have been given the whole four-gallon bucket of left-over slip-n-slide lubricant. 

He poked a finger into the clear jelly. Ew; cold and gross. Ew.

Biting his lip, Rhett sat on the toilet. He cupped his balls, then ran a nervous finger behind his sack. The sensation made him shiver.

It tickled.

Rhett couldn’t believe he was going to put stuff up his butt. It was just _wrong_. Wrong... and gay... Fuck.

Rhett remembered Link’s rant. Yeah, clearly he had his own hang-ups that needed to be dealt with.

It couldn’t be that bad, physically. Link liked it. 

Rhett mentally smothered the voice whispering how wrong it was and dragged the lube closer to himself on the speckled granite counter.

It would be fine, Rhett told himself.

Why hadn't he just stuck to engineering?

Life was not fair to Rhett.

...

Link squatted awkwardly, pants bunched and pulling tight around his knees. 

He finished drying his meticulously washed hands, then touched the tip of his index to his hole. Somewhere deep behind his belly-button, a pulse of arousal throbbed at the gritty friction.

He closed his eyes at the sensation, and almost instantly a fantasy reared up.

" _What_ _do_ _you_ _think_ _you're_ _doing_ , _boy_?" Kris's smooth voice whispered in his head. 

Link knew that intonation.

A hint of humor, laced with indulgence. The faintest underscore of inflexible sternness. His cock twitched; this was a tone of warning.

Link blushed; thank goodness no-one would ever know what his messed-up brain invented. He would die of shame if that were the case.

" _Do_ _it_ _right_ , _Link_." Kris's imaginary voice continued. 

Link bowed his head, squatting on a towel in his work bathroom. Did he really want to go this route? His dick lurched, beginning to get hard.

God, Link could practically _feel_ Kris, standing in the corner over his shoulder. 

" _I'm_ _waiting_!!" Link's Dom was getting impatient. Fuck.

Link decided that pretending he was prepping during a session wouldn't harm anything. At the very least, it would prevent him from chickening out of the whole stupid plan.

With a gasp, Link began to tug his pants off. _Do it right_. Fuck.

Stupid black skinny jeans.

Kris would be shirtless, half-way into a session, Link knew. He would fondle his thick cock through his pants, watching his pretty little sub.

Link dropped to his knees, finally naked.

" _Show_ _me_."

Link shuddered, arching his back obediently. He pushed his butt out, spreading his ass-cheeks with shaky hands.

Gosh. An intense feeling of debasement twisted tight in his stomach.

Gosh, he was filthy. Good boys didn’t do obscene things like this; good boys didn’t spread their ass like a slut. Link had watched enough porn to guess exactly how he looked; his heartbeat thumped in his eardrums and goose-bumps erupted prickly all over his bare back.

Link held himself still, fingers digging into the meaty muscle; every passing second wound the _wrongness_ tighter. His hands were slippery with sweat and he struggled not to squirm.

Be a good boy for his Dom. Link rode the shame, tendrils of submissive mind-space gradually curling through his thought processes. No place for shame. No judgement. Link had to obey; his Dom wanted him like this. It was as simple as that. He could feel the fine hairs that covered his ass, fuzzy beneath his palms.

Link imagined invisible eyes raking over him. He arched his back, panting. He was calming. More and more jittery tension leached out of him with every passing second, leaving behind a beautfully calm void.

Sub-space called and Link welcomed it.

He was all right. He could do whatever his top needed. He _had_ to do it. Link gave himself over. No self-doubt. His breathing slowed and his head sagged heavy on a noodle neck.

" ' _m_ _gonna_ _fuck_ _you_ _good_ , _boy.”_ Kris promised darkly.

Link almost couldn’t stop the whine; it strangled in his throat and he forced air through his nose.

God.

He waited, kneeling and offered. Calm.

His dick flexed heavily, rising to kiss his belly with wetness. 

Link thought he would burst apart at the seams. His asshole clenched repeatedly, sooooooo exposed. Fuck fuck fuck. 

" _Prep_ _yourself_ _boy._ _You_ _have_ _one_ _minute_."

Link couldn't stop the whine that time, and it echoed in the cold bathroom.

Quickly. Quickly. This was good. This was familiar.

Link fumbled for the lube, sticking a finger into himself. 

He ignored the reflex tightening, pushing deep. So hot. _Be_ _good_.

Quickly. Quickly.

Add more lube; back in with one finger, then two. Link grunted. 

Too soon for two but he didn't have time to go slow. Quickly. Quickly. 

Link worked his fingers passed the tight muscle, feeling around in the soft squishiness inside. 

One minute.

Fuck, fuck, he needed more time. The floor was hard under his spread knees.

Link's shoulder strained and he grunted again. 

One minute was never enough time to properly stretch, even quickly, quickly.

One minute was always all he got.

One minute was only enough to take the edge off. One minute prevented tearing and blood; it never stopped the penetration from hurting so good.

It had become obvious after a few experiments with Link being fucked; he liked to hurt during the initial penetration. Shit, he _needed_ it to hurt.

He had given thought about why he felt this way. Link knew he enjoyed a certain level of painful sensations when he was aroused, but this was different.

Somehow, it felt _right_ for being fucked to hurt. Link was still working on accepting that he enjoyed bottoming. He was secretly horrified by the idea that Kris might one day decide to be all tender and romantic and shit. God, if his Dom _made love_ to him, Link expected he would have a break down. Just the notion of how insanely _good_ it would feel to be completely and gently taken apart made him nauseous with self-loathing.

Link was fucked up. He knew it. He was making slow progress on that front.

It was okay for him to cum from being fucked, as long as it was part of kink play. Kris was not particularly sadistic. But when he took his boy, he was firm and unrelenting. Consent had been given, before-hand. In the moment though, the choice was removed from Link. His Dom wanted to fuck him. So he did; when and at the pace he wanted.

In this scenario, Link had no options; it freed him to enjoy the pleasure. Link just had to be good and take it.

Be good. 

Link could be very, very good.

Kris had no complaints if Link was usually too tight to take easily. Maybe he liked the feeling. Or maybe he understood much more than he let on, which was quite probable.

Kris fucked Link when he was a good boy. It was glorious.

Link could be very, very good. 

Link reveled in the brilliant focus being submissive required. Despite how forward and outwardly in control he appeared, Link’s mind was always grinding away, weighing options and getting lost in details. It was exhausting as fuck. 

Being a sub was simple; _be_ _good_. Obey your Master. Link thrived on single-track concentration; he excelled at pursuing one thing and applying all of his energy to it. Link could be very, very good.

Sometimes, Kris fucked Link if he was bad too. 

They both thrived on the blunt pressure of Kris's cock, forcing Link take him. Link always started off thinking he could do it; he had done the impossible and made himself loose enough in one minute.

Then Kris's cock-head slowly breached him and it hurt. It hurt LIKE FUCKING HELL.

Link's mouth fell open soundlessly and he always forgot to breathe; he would grab at whatever he could catch, long spider fingers in the sheets or pinching into his top's biceps. Tight fists grasping the chains of thick black leather cuffs, the metal taut and digging into his palms. Link's only focus became to remain still while air and moans caught silent in his lungs.

Link's eyes would water and he plunged further into sub-space with every unbearable millimeter his body gave. Until suddenly, when Link was about to sob from the agony; Kris's dick-head was in. Then all the sounds broke free and sometimes the sobs too. 

It always felt like he'd ripped in two, split right down the middle and exposed all of his neurosis to his Dom's kind gaze.

Kris never stopped at just the head; he would force a slow invasive drive into Link's channel until he was balls-deep and Link was shivering everywhere and incoherent.

Only then did he pause, waiting for Link to come back from that place inside his head he went to. Eventually, Link would become responsive to the warm words his Master lavished. Impaled and flushed, Link’s mobile face would twist in challenge. Before he could get words organized to taunt, the real fuck began and words left him entirely.

Link shook himself back into the present.

One minute.

One minute of prep was not enough.

One minute was exactly how long Link needed. 

The purple plug slipped in easily and Link dropped his head to the floor.

Fuck.

He tried to find his center. God, he was dizzy. This was not a session. The fullness in his ass was overpowering. Kris was not here. This was goddamn work. 

Fuck.

Finally, Link clawed himself back into a semi-rational state. He felt frazzled but he wasn't floating anymore. The fantasy receded. Mostly.

Fuck.

Link straightened experimentally. He would talk to his wife about moving his next session closer, maybe this week-end if they could manage it. Link felt off-balance, teetering unsteadily on the edge of the precipice of his desire. He didn’t think he could wait another month for Kris to work it out of him.

The plug was present, no doubt about that. It felt thick inside him; the rectangular base between his cheeks was the most uncomfortable. Link gingerly stood and pushed his shaky feet into his jeans, nearly falling over. Fuck, his knees were watery.

The plug rubbed and shifted inside him and he gritted his teeth.

Link pushed weak arms into his t-shirt sleeves, but he couldn't find the patience to deal with his pants. He let his head hang, groaning at how bad his dick hurt. Link twisted his hands into the fabric under the zipper of his pants, hooking his thumb into the vee and trying to ignore how badly his cock needed friction.

Fuck. Fuck.

His angry red erection curved up along his wrist. Link took a deep shaky breath. Then another.

God, he was _hard_.

Finally, he worked up the resolve to push his dick at an awkward slant and zip his jeans. 

Fuuuuucckk.

Link tried to straighten, gasping in great gulps. His dick throbbed painfully in his tight pants and that made his ass clench and that moved the blasted plug and he'd been right, it just barely grazed his good spot.

Fucking hell.

Link ran the cold tap, then lost the will to splash his face. He stupidly watched himself waste water, resting with his elbows on the counter. Link tried to breathe, waiting out the aching urge to jerk off. 

NO. He wasn't allowed to jerk off before a session, he knew better.

God, he wanted to stroke himself; the plug was keeping him really close to the edge. He didn't usually have such a hard time calming down; he was stubborn enough that his self-control was excellent.

Fuck. He clenched his hands into fists. His hips were moving in small pulses, too much tension to contain. Link was a good boy. Link could be very, very good! His master would make him pay dearly if he came too soon. Kris would certainly...

“Fuck.” Link cursed out loud. His voice was scratchy.

Kris was not here. This was work. 

Why was he torturing himself? Good Lord! He was not thinking clearly and _that_ was going to be a problem.

Fingers fumbly with urgency, he worked his pants back open.

The first slow stroke of a loose fist from his shaft to his leaking dick-head made Link’s knees buckle.

Yes! He could work with that. Link let himself sink further, spreading his legs. He carefully knelt back, pressing the heel of his foot firmly against the plug in his crack.

“Hagh.” The sound was out before he bit his lip.

Prostate. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Link rocked hard, sparks fizzing up his spine at each press of the plug at just the right place inside.

Orgasm built in seconds, bubbling deep inside. Uninhibited, Link jerked his dick with quick stripping motions, chasing the pleasure.

It was over embarassingly quickly. Engulfed in flames from both the inside and the outside, Link chewed on his lip to try and stifle the sounds he made. Acute awareness of the fact that he was at work and someone might hear him only wound him tighter; the dual assault crescendo’d until he spasmed, spilling wet and gooey into his hand.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Link rose shakily, rinsing his hands in cold water and finally turning the tap off. 

Fuck.

Link slowly righted his clothes.

In the mirror, his eyes were too wide and his cheeks were bright red.

Fuck.

Link wondered how he’d survive the shoot.

As the bathroom door clicked shut, Link wondered how Rhett was doing.

God. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please practice safe sexual practices.
> 
> Xxx
> 
> FrenchCaresse


	3. Vibrations and distractions and orgasms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. 
> 
> This was originally tagged sub Link. And straight Rhett. But their power dynamic got complicated, then Rhett turned not so straight. And THEN the smutty ending filled with feels. Prepare for a roller-coaster ride.
> 
> Also, these are fictional representations of real people who I do not know. At all.
> 
> And a fictional representation of how remote control butt plugs work. None of this real, ya'll.
> 
> I know the POV just keeps sliding around between the two, and they have very different voices. Link is all chaotic intensity and Rhett is so much more calm and rational that the story’s flow gets rather inconsistant depending on who’s POV is narrated. I have tried and tried to edit this into a more coherent whole but this is how these guys want to share their story so I give up. Raw emotion ahead.

Rhett sat in his chair, waiting for Link.

Damn, he wished the man would hurry up. Now that the moment he'd avoided thinking about all week was actually happening, Rhett just wanted it over.

Done. A surreal bubble, a blip of ''the show made me do it'' in his normal life that he could then move on from.

Except that in order to erase the moment from his mind, he had go through with filming the sequence first. And _that_ meant he needed Link to show up to do his part and goddamn, Link was sure taking his time! Rhett took a sip of water. His throat was tight, it made swallowing difficult.

He hoped Link was not having a melt-down. It was a real possibility, actually, given how nervous Link was about the whole idea. 

The more he sat there, alone and uncomfortable, the more Rhett worried. He should go look for his best friend, he decided. He couldn't leave Link alone and panicking. The discomfort of walking around with a plug up his ass was less important than Link’s mental health. Besides, he’d done much crazier things in the name of friendship before. 

And then Morgan was greeting Link and a scattering of hello’s sounded; Rhett looked up to see his co-host heading for his seat.

Thank god. 

...

Link looked...

Rhett squinted.

Link looked... like Link, rather disappointingly.

He was a bit flushed, maybe, but other than that he gave no indication that there was anything out of the ordinary. His hair was perfectly in place and yes, all right, he _was_ being careful of how he sat down.

“So, how’d it go?” Link beat Rhett at asking the question, but he didn’t look at him straight on. Link was uncomfortable, Rhett deduced, blue eyes flitting around the studio.

Rhett pursed his lips. His initial instinct was to be sarcastic but he swallowed down the mocking words. Easy. _Easy_. Link was putting up a good facade, but Rhett knew they were on very shaky ground.

“It went okay, I think.” Rhett scratched his beard with a grimace. Normal. Act normal, he told himself.

“I used too much lube.” He added.

What was normal, exactly? Rhett couldn’t tell. Was he being weird?

“You what now?” Link jerked around to face Rhett, his breath catching audibly at the sudden mouvement.

Oh God.

That sound was clearly the butt-plug stimulating Link sexually.

Rhett’s entire body suddenly buzzed with electricity. The sound that escaped Link was small, not quite a groan. No-one but Rhett had heard it. And yet Rhett's response to that bitten-off grunt was a roaring wave of heat that almost made him double over. ” _I’m going to like it_.” Link’s morose pool-side words rattled in Rhett’s otherwise empty skull.

Fuck.

Rhett swallowed.

Fuck.

He needed to _not_ analyze how Link responded to the butt-plug. Because Link _was_ _going_ _to_ _like_ _it_. Thinking of his best friend helplessly aroused in front of everyone was turning _Rhett_ on and that was a complicated mess he didn't need. 

Fuck.

Rhett did a quick mental evaluation of the overwhelming arousal; this... _beast..._ inside him was fueled by a control kink, maybe a bit of an exhibitionnist one. Rhett was relatively sure this wasn't some latent homosexual fantasy awakened. Lord knew he’d done enough overthinking on the whole gay thing, given how many people assumed they were a couple.

Rhett was not gay. He was not attracted to his best friend. Usually. But if he thought too much about Link, control-freak stubborn Link, being overwhelmingly horny, it ignited his sometimes-not-so-healthy competitive streak and fuck, he ached. He didn't want to have sex with Link, but God, Rhett wanted to make him come undone. Rhett wanted to push the right buttons and crack Link’s self-control; wanted take him apart bit by bit until he melted in Rhett’s arms.

Fuck.

Rhett grappled with the inconvenient impulse, pushing it down. It was his turn to be unable to maintain eye contact. He watched the crew instead as he silently panicked through the not-at-all-platonic revelation; he was too distracted to really tell what was happening but people milled about in a comforting hubub of... crew stuff.

The fullness in his rectum was really distracting too and not at all comforting.

“I used too much lube, dude. ” Rhett repeated when he was sure his voice wouldn't shake. And like a cap unplugged, suddenly he couldn’t stop talking, trying to bury the shame underneath babbling.

He shifted in embarassement, -fuck, plug!- remembering the bathroom disaster “ _Urgh_. All my research said to be generous with the lube. Okay? So I did what I’d read. I used a lot of lube. ''

Link blinked at the very un-Rhettlike torrent of words.

''Clearly I used _too much_ lube; it got absolutely everywhere. It was cold and nasty; I couldn’t get a grip on the stupid plug and I was tight so the plug kept slipping away instead of going in and then...” 

Too much! This was too much information, fuck, Link could imagine the situation all too clearly. He didn’t want to think about how tight Rhett's asshole was! 

Link waved his hands wildly, screeching “Stop! Stop! Enough! I don’t want to know all that, gosh, stop!”

Rhett didn't seem to hear him, verbal diarrhea spewing unchecked.

“I had to wipe a truck-load of lube out of my crack, my butt-hair is still pulling together. Ack! And it’s not like I can just scratch my crack now, is it? Cause I have a fucking plug in there. I got lube on my fucking socks -how the fuck did that even happen?- so my right heel is sticking to my shoe and...” 

Rhett finally -thank god- stopped oversharing, sniffing hard with a pointed collar adjustment.

Link pushed his glasses up and ignored the weight settled inside his ass. He was at a complete loss as to how he should answer any of that.

A light being nearly knocked over caused a few screams and lots of mocking laughter that sorta buzzed into the background of the set.

Link shook his head, pursing his lips until it became clear he was simply not going to answer the tirade.

”What about you?” Rhett asked finally, turning back to face his best friend. 

Fuck.

Link didn't want to talk about his own experience with the buttplug. Speaking about it would mean acknowledging what they were doing.

It made everything all too real. Real like the feeling of hot cum oozing over his fingers. Real like imagining his dom topping him at the office.

Rhett's green eyes always saw too much. There would be no hiding.

Link swallowed, anxiety a vice around his stomach.

He didn't want to mix his sex life with his work life, and even less with his lifelong friendship. Fuck.

”What did you think of the vibrations?” Rhett pushed when Link remained silent.

The... FUCK. Fuck fuck DAMN.

Rhett watched Link's face freeze, then get stuck in his “Oh shit! I screwed up” expression.

”Wait. No?” Rhett giggled with evil glee. Link turned a hot red.

“You didn’t? Really?”

Link was closing down defensively, shoulders hunching and brow furrowing.

”For real? Link, man, how could you not try the vibrations before the cameras were rolling? Didn’t you want to know what it felt like?''

Link's face was blank as he stubbornly maintained a stony silence.

“Oh. My. God. I don’t believe you. You’re like, purposely trying to make things tough on yourself!” 

Rhett’s chuckles grew, until he was full-on hooting with laughter.

Link tried to ignore his best-friend because good grief, he HAD brought this unto himself. He couldn’t bring himself to join in the good-natured ribbing though. Even if he knew it was not meant to mock, Rhett’s laughter went on and on. It twisted and twisted the jumbled shame, anger and anxiety that writhed inside Link into a pressurized knot until he exploded in an agressive outburst.

”Screw you, Rhett. Screw you!”

Link rose angrily - _fuck_ , _plug_ \- and his vision whited out.

Fuck, fuck.

Link’s cock, which swung heavily but was not even close to hard, gave a viscious lurch. For a second, sheer panic that he was going to cum in his jeans, right then, before the shoot even began, nearly made Link faint.

Link grabbed the edge of the desk, curling over awkwardly with his thighs clenched together and his breath hitching in the same choked sound of hurt from earlier. 

Oh no. Rhett sobered instantly. This was bad.

And so fucking hot, god.

Rhett's laughter dried up and he ignored how his body responded to the sound of Link in distress.

Link was turned away slightly, shaking. He was breathing in the slow controlled way he’d learned to when a panic attack threatened. Link’s heart thumped crookedly in his chest; he was cognizant enough to focus on the fact that he wasn’t even fully erect. He was not going to humiliate himself by coming in his pants. _Calm down, calm down_ , he was okay. 

Rhett watched Link too intensely. God, he wanted to stroke Link’s shivery back right then; he really- really- really wanted to feel how tense Link was. Rhett’s fingers actually fucking tingled with the urge to touch Link, which was ridiculous and cliché and annoying as hell. Rhett wanted to rub Link’s shoulders, soothe him with empty words; he wanted to hear Link moan as he came. Link was surely loud as hell in bed.

The twin impulses were stupid and contradictory and not going to happen, either one of them and shit, Rhett was so fucked.

”I forgot, okay? I forgot to try the remote. » Link’s voice when he spoke was soft, defeated, and Rhett felt even guiltier. He was such a pervert. Link was having a hard time and Rhett was fantasizing about molesting him.

“I was... preoccupied... by other things, all right?” Link stared red-faced at the table. His t-shirt looked good on him, pulling tight across his shoulders.

Rhett didn't say anything for a while, eventually asking quietly.

“Please stay.''

Link nodded and carefully sat back down. He didn't breathe at all until he was settled. Not that Rhett noticed. He hadn’t been straining with all his might hoping to hear the little choked sound that was setting his insides on fire.

“I’m sorry.” Rhett apologized sincerely. “I was being an asshole.” _More_ _than_ _you_ _know_. He ammended mentally.

Link shrugged, still staring at the desk.

Rhett wooshed a giant exhale, grappling for normal. 

”Is it... is it the poop?” Rhett asked gently, “You have that... cleanliness thing... the OCD... it’s not been quite as under control for a while has it? Did you have a freak out?”

Link didn’t answer, picking at an imaginary crack and Rhett knew he wasn’t getting anything more out of him.

Experience told Rhett that this was a time to back off and he did, swivelling to face sideways and instantly seeing Link relax in his peripheral vision.

”I... I’m sorry. “ Rhett repeated. It was the truth; Rhett could be a jerk but he didn’t like to see his best friend struggle. _Except_ _apparently_ _struggle_ _not_ _to_ _orgasm_ , which was new and disturbing and would need further thinking on. Later.

A still-flushed Link turned to Rhett, flashing a grateful smile. Rhett returned it, squashing the guilt.

”Do you want to try the vibrations now?” Rhett asked “Before we’re rolling?”

And of course, at that moment, Stevie announced that they were ready to start.

...

”Yes! Let’s do this!” Link’s blue eyes snapped and he smiled goofily at their producer.

All traces of emotional distress were wiped from his candid expression. Rhett would have thought he’d imagined it all, but a low fire still smoldered in his belly from Link’s near slip .

“Link has to...” Rhett started, only to be cut off by his buddy talking loudly over him.

”I forgot the remote in the washroom, if you could send someone to get it?”

Link widened his eyes at Rhett and shook his head subtly.

Fuck. Of course. It was a pride thing, Link not wanting to admit he’d forgotten to try the vibrations, but it was a pretty big risk. 

Link bit his lip, waiting on Rhett.

Rhett nodded, reaching for his mug. He’d keep the secret if it was what Link wanted, but damn he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea.

...

Stevie was reviewing the game. Three levels of vibrations, three texts to read. Same points system as the first two rounds. 

“ But the plug has five levels of vibrations!” Rhett clarified.

”Yup. But we’ll be using only the first three on you guys.” Stevie called as she made her way to the production booth.

Camera’s shiny black mouths turned towards them, and text flashed on the teleprompter.

Rhett stomped down the ridiculous urge to hold Link’s hand. Fuck, he was nervous.

...

After initial banter about how « the internet made them do it » and they couldn’t believe they were trying this for real and such -Link was quite proud of how sincere he managed to sound about it being the first time and, _bonus_ , he’d managed to mention his wife TWICE- they were ready to vibrate.

Link was first to go and after some agressive complaining Stevie agreed that they both get turned on at the same time. And okay, Link really shouldn’t have used those exact words but he hadn’t thought it out before all right? Rhett’s eyes bugged and his mouth twitched at the double entendre and Link was trying to back track when Rhett jerked.

A full bodied jump with a groany umpf that was clearly not fake. 

« You all right, man? » Link asked, trying not to stare.

« Mmmmh, mmh, yeah. » Rhett’s answer was strained. « What about you? »

Rhett’s fingers fidgeted in his hair and ok, something was wrong.

« Me? » Link asked the camera. « Nothing, I’m not... there’s nothing. » 

Link tried to see behind the lights who was holding his remote, giving Rhett time to gather himself.

« It’s not working. » Link said, wondering if he should be happy or mortified.

« Dude! » He told Rhett with a slap on the arm. « I think I broke it! » Link couldn’t help smiling like a kid at the feeling he was escaping punishment.

« Of course you would. » Rhett grumbled. « Another thing to keep away from you. No knives, no fire, no buttplugs. »

Link beamed, then the smile slipped completely.

« Oh. » Link cleared his throat. « It’s working. »

His eyebrows drew down and he pushed his glasses up. 

« How do you feel? » Rhett asked, still sounding strained. 

Link swallowed, carefully sitting straighter. 

Good. He could deal with this. The vibration was very much present but it was relatively mild. It made Link want to rock back and clench his ass good, enhance the feeling.

He didn’t.

Link focused on keeping everything pelvic loose and open. His dick gave a half-hearted twitch that Link ignored. There was potential for much more pleasure, obviously. It called. Now was not the right time.

The cameras pointed straight at him and whispers of the crew were enough of a deterent.

Link was not going to cum in front of all of them. 

Fuck no.

...

Link was the first to read his cards and the game went very smoothly. He didn’t miss any lines; in fact he didn’t even stumble over any words at all.

Having an objective, like concentrating on the scientifically incomprehensible text, helped Link ignore the unease in his groin.

Rhett, however, was in deep trouble from the start. He was jittery and distracted, and he moved around way too much. His long thighs opened and closed; he leaned forward then back; he even tried to cross his legs, giving _that_ idea up real quick.

Link knew from experience that it was useless to try and escape the vibrations. The plug was lodged deep inside, no amount of limb positioning would make the feeling stop. The key was to absorb the sensation for what it was, neither trying to get away like Rhett was doing, nor pushing for more stimulation like his body wanted.

Rhett lost five points on the first round and it certainly wasn’t going to get easier from there, was it?

...

When Link circled his finger for the level to be increased, Rhett died a bit on the inside.

Fate was biting him right in the vibrating ass for feeling so smug and superior after Link had admitted to getting turned on by anal stimulation.

Well fuck.

...

Rhett couldn’t decide what to do with himself. The vibrations were driving him crazy. 

He absolutely had no clue how Link could act so unnaffected. Rhett’s entire body was on high alert, adrenaline making him sweat.

Not surprisingly, he fucked his lines up even worse in the second round than he’d done at the lower speed. Rhett was actually having a hard time remaining in his seat, he was so jittery: he twitched and ached, every instinct screeching at him to get the intruder in his ass OUT.

It was unfair. Link was flushed and bit giddy, laughing loopy and fidgeting with his clothes. That was all. He missed one word. One single word. In fact, Link was calmer and more focused than usual, all restrained concentration.

Level two was doable, although the vibrations were definately more distracting.

Link tried to help Rhett, urging him to quit moving so much, but Rhett wasn’t even listening. Typical.

Link started to sink into the zone a bit. He was hard now, and the pleasure was bubbling slowly. He flexed his fingers. He could faintly hear his Dom’s imagined command « Not yet boy, be good. »

The notion that this was an edging session in Kris's capable hands made it easier for Link to stay in control. The vibrations were too much and not enough, like so many of their session beginnings. Link just had to ride through the frustration until things got more intense.

...

Get more intense they did. 

Rhett was actually useless, if highly entertaining by this point. Link kept up the conversation and commentary for the viewers while Rhett pretty much just wiggled and made Dad noises that Link was ignoring.

The third level vibrations were like a tooth-ache, both dull and sharp at once. After an initial false start where Link’s level of vibration actually went down before revving up, the pleasure was jarring.

Link wanted to touch his dick now, badly. No matter how relaxed he tried to keep himself, he was getting enough prostate stimulation that his cock was leaking. Great.

« Come on man! » Link urged Rhett. "Ya gotta do your part! Don’t you want this to stop?"

An incoherent Rhett shook his head stupidly. God, he looked out of it.

Link stared at his friend pointedly, waiting for an answer. He wondered just how hard Rhett was. Unless he was trying to prevent himself from getting an erection and that was why he was so affected?

Rhett cleared his throat after a much-too-long delay, absently nodding in response to Link’s question. Geez. Link pumped a fist in the air in the universal supportive bro sign.

"You can do it Rhett, I have faith in you-ouuu. _Ha_."

Link had pushed his hips back and his legs apart without thinking, _stupid_ , getting his first direct prostate hit. Fuck.

Arching his back and immediately shifting forward stalled the beginning volcano but now Link’s body REALLY ached for more. Oh god, Link wanted to touch his dick. So bad.

Clearing his throat, Link placed both hands on the desk. Shit. _Keep_ _it_ _together_ _in front of the crew_. Fidgeting with his wedding ring helped, keeping his fingers occupied; the hard band was comforting in it’s unyeilding hardness.

God, Link wanted the stupid show done. They were heading straight for disaster. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he turned to his useless co-host. Link was on a mission now, determined to get the episode over as fast as possible; that meant finishing the fucking game.

It was Rhett's turn to read and if Link didn't force him into action, the bearded man didn’t seem like he would ever get his crap together.

Link’s survival depended on his getting Rhett to read the damn card. Damn, his balls hurt. Link felt like his whole genital area was swollen; he ached, engorged as if he'd been hard for hours. It was a sensation that also happened when he was fucked without penile contact. Somehow, deep anal stimulation bi-passed his dick and settled heavy in his testicles. It was so profoundly frustrating, a torturous blend of emasculating pleasure just out of reach, that he would eventually be brought to tears from it, he knew. He wondered if Rhett was struggling with the same issue. For the first time. On camera. Christ.

"Take the card man, you can do it."

Rhett just peered wide-eyed into the different cameras, panting.

« Rhett. »

Link took a calculated risk, placing his hand on Rhett’s shoulder.

It worked; Rhett _finally_ focused on Link. Electricity shot between them and Link bit his lip to ignore it. Rhett’s shirt was thin cotton and it stuck to Link’s sweaty palm, hard muscle warm underneath.

« Rhett. Good. » Link’s voice was too rough, shit. « Read the card. Be an anchor man. »

Rhett nodded slowly, but he still looked haunted. Link made himself take his hand off Rhett, not quite managing to suppress a groan at the frustration. Physical contact helped. Physical contact was dangerous. Not gay, _family_ _friendly_ _show_ , Jesus what were they thinking?

« Okay. Okay. » Rhett leaned over the desk to grab his card. Fucking finally.

« _Hurgh_. » Rhett immediately lost focus, breathing hard with his chin to his chest and the card face-down on the desk.

Link coaxed him some more.

« First line man, just take it one word at a time. You can do it. »

Rhett responded to his best friend’s words: he nodded, mouth a tight line, and picked up the card.

And as Link focused on Rhett, something phenomenal happened.

Link was sinking back into the zone. Except instead of being passive and focused on following directions like usual, he was hyperaware and focused on _giving_ directions. The desire in his own body grew farther away as his priorities shifted.

Link welcomed the change; he floated into a state of crystal concentration that was solely about Rhett. Every cell of their bodies vibrated in harmony, Link seemingly connected to every shifting movement and shaky breath of Rhett’s.

« Stop fighting it. » he urged when his friend faltered.

Rhett slammed his fist on the desk with a dull unsatisfying thud.

« No. Don’t. Stop that." There was quiet confidence in Link's voice that made Rhett obey automatically.

Rhett couldn't fucking think. It was worse than the peppers, in some way. His body was reacting in an unpredictable rush and his brain had shut itself off in a homophobic act of preservation.

When Link took charge and began guiding him, Rhett melted in relief.

Link had his back.

Link knew how to get them through.

Link liked this. Fuck, Rhett liked it too.

"I wanna punch something." Rhett grumbled. The simple fact that he could form complete sentences was a good sign.

Link was his best friend.

Rhett trusted him.

Link... Link was talking, so Rhett listened. 

"I know, Rhett." Link was saying, even though he didn’t share Rhett's destructive impulses when overwhelmed.

Rhett stared at his beautiful saviour with ferocious intensity, forgetting everyone else in the room. Link's already hot cheek burned. _No_. Not here, not now. Link MADE himself look only at the camera, fuck, ignoring the heat pouring off of Rhett.

"You're doing great, a regular news anchor." Link's stage persona was fraying at the edges, his laughter brittle and dry. His head spun and he was so fucking aroused.

This new dynamic could be good. Link would enjoy it, immensely; if only it was a private moment between the two of them not about to be broadcast to millions. Having Rhett so nicely docile opened up... possibilities. Possibilities of a forbidden sexual nature. At the very least, acting on them would make EVERYTHING complicated; worst case scenario, exploring this aspect of things was potentially marriage ruining. For both of them. Best not go there.

Ever.

Especially not on camera. Christ.

Rhett’s eyes were glazing over again, so Link quickly ordered him to "Next line. Do the next line, Rhett."

For a second, he turned to check if his best friend would do as told.

 _Mistake_.

Rhett looked straight back into Link's soul. Connection snapped between them and _fuck_. The head-rush of power forced Link to drag a greedy breath of air through his nose before he kissed the man. For the first time. On camera. Christ.

Rhett was _putty_ in Link’s hands, following his every direction mindlessly. He started to lean forward and for a moment Link worried that Rhett, _straight_ Rhett, would be the one to initiate a kiss. Link shook his head, _no_ , pushing up his glasses. Unusual self-assurance was a thrumming steady light in his veins. Rhett would obey.

He did.

Rhett blinked wide-dilated hazy eyes, licked his lips and started to fumble through his text.

Link swallowed around the lump caught in his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

Fuck.

Link knew with absolute clarity that in this mind-blowing moment he was unrestrainedly topping Rhett and it felt godamn _perfect_.

He wondered if this was how Kris felt with Link at his feet. Probably.

Link would cherish Rhett; he could push him, push _them_ , further -closer- than ever before.

The connection was so beautiful it made Link teary. He closed his eyes briefly, overwhelmed with a tender sense of responsability towards his best friend. Rhett, who was stripped of all his barriers for Link. Completely. For the first time. On camera.

Christ.

He had experienced slivers of moments like this before, as a father, when he realized the vulnerable trust that lay in his hands. The power to break someone’s self or form it into something fragile and beautiful.

Never had he imagined he would feel this way with Rhett though. And never had he imagined them swimming in such high levels of sexual energy together. For the first time. On camera.

Christ, it felt right.

Kris had mentionned early on that Link was a switch; the engrained instinctiveness of his stubborness made him too dominant to fully be a sub. But Link wanted, _needed_ , to be told what to do and denied; Kris enjoyed the challenge and so their relationship was perfectly satisfying.

Kris was not Rhett, he could never be. Link's soaring heart plumeted in a vertiginous twirling free-fall of realism.

They could never have this. Too much was at stake. Rhett and Link and both their families would never survive the upheaval. 

Link was dangerously close to tears again, except now his heart bled with regret. 

_Never_. He promised himself vehemently.

 _Never_.

 _Ever_.

They could never explore this.

Link had to be strong.

Rhett couldn’t know.

Link sniffed hard; he was getting a head-ache from the tension. At least he didn't think the mythical beasts would notice his inner crisis, since Rhett was actively getting through his part. 

Finally, it was Link's turn. He grabbed his card and rushed through the sentences, racing against the constant stimulation in his belly eroding his control. God, he felt raw and exposed. 

Almost done.

They just needed to hang on for a few minutes more.

...

Rhett managed to pull himself together enough to declare Link the obvious winner of the "Can we keep readin' despite this vibratin'" game. Their final banter was forced but semi-normal enough that hopefully they could get away with it. 

« Aaand... to find out where the wheel of mythicalityisgonnalaaaaannnd! »

Link leaned back without thinking to spin the wheel.

He jerked and convulsed spastically because ok, fuck, now the plug was... _oooh_. Right there. 

Link flailed dramatically, exagerating the involuntary tremors for comedic effect and getting the wheel clicking in a decidedly weak spin. He was borderline close to losing himself in the quiet introspective place pain usually took him. Link yanked himself out of it, instead bursting out in a dramatic exclamation for the viewers.

« Enough! Gah. Turn those things off, gol-LY! »

Link closed the segment with a frantic head-cutting motion.

Done. First time vibrating. On camera. Christ.

Mission accomplished.

Link had not ejaculated in his pants.

...

Rhett sagged in relief at the blessed absence of vibration. Thank god that was over. The plug was still inside him, but it was a small issue after the past half hour. Rhett scratched his beard. He owed Link, big time, for keeping the show running.

Link, who gave a sudden shout of distress, jerkily sitting straight up with a panicked expression.

"Link?" Rhett asked uncertainly.

"Ah. Ah. Ah." Link did not answer, shuddering and hunched over.

Something was wrong.

Adrenaline fired through Rhett.

Link swiped his glasses onto the desk with a plastic rattle, hiding his face in his hand.

Oh no. Something was wrong. Very very wrong. If the glasses were off, things were serious.

"Link? What's happening?" Rhett asked

Link braced himself on the desk, all ninety-degree elbows and fragile bowed neck. 

He still did not answer, helplessly making that "Ah. Ah. Ah." on every choppy exhale.

Rhett reached for Link right as the man pushed his chair back, gripping the edge of the desk white knuckled.

Rhett craned his neck taller to see Link's face, but Link's eyes were screwed shut.

"Link."

Rhett grabbed his friend by both shoulders, getting a better idea of just how intense the tremors were. Shit, Link was shaking bad.

"Plug." Link hissed.

"Five, it's buzzing at level five, ma-aaax speedohgod." Link spat the words in a short burst before shutting back in on himself. He humphed, rising to a jerky half-standing position.

"What? That's not..." Rhett's brain was not functionning right. 

Link groaned and sank to one knee, hiding his red face in his elbow on the desk.

The hurt in the restrained vocalizations ripped through Rhett and without thought, protector mode engaged. 

"Who's doing that?" Rhett yelled. Link wrapped a hand in Rhett's shirt with a whimper that obliterated rational logic. 

"STOP IT NOW!!" Rhett roared, on his feet and about to go for the remote himself. 

Someone squeaked and responded in panicked stuttering. At the same time, Link leaned his full weight on Rhett, perhaps in an attempt to stand up. 

Rhett was unprepared for the drag and stumbled heavily. They both lost their balance, collapsing into a heap behind the desk with an uncoordinated yelp. 

Fuck.

...

The fall was a good thing Rhett decided, once his shin had stopped ringing from the healthy bang that would surely bruise.

There was a semblance of privacy down here; being alone and out of the crew's sight calmed Link almost immediately.

Blue eyes opened and he lost himself in Rhett, too close and not even realizing it.

Link's face twitched.

He confided breathlessly. "Agh. It won't stop."

Rhett wrapped his arms around Links shaking shoulders, pulling him closer.

Safe.

Link was safe with Rhett.

Rhett would help.

Rhett smelled good.

"It's okay." Rhett whispered. His hand stroked down Link's stubbly face.

Link squeezed his fingers around Rhett's, groaning miserably. He was mashing their knuckles painfully but Rhett didn't even care.

"No. ‘s not. " Link shook his head; a spotty flush spread down his cheeks to his neck. Rhett wanted to lick the heated inflammation.

"I can't..." Link trailed off, fingers leaving Rhett's to dig hard into his own thigh.

"I'm going to cum." Link admitted, ashamed and defeated. His pelvis rocked in small undulations.

Rhett groaned. So hot. "Yeah."

Link shook his head stubbornly, shudders one after the other ripping visibly through him.

He was biting his lip so hard that Rhett could see white tooth-shaped indentations. 

"No. I don't want to." Link curled tighter over himself, fighting his body. Rhett yanked him closer. He couldn't get close enough.

Link's eyelashes were fuzzy and thick, Rhett could see that they curled up a bit from this close. He kinda wanted to pet them. 

"Link." Rhett's timbre was so low and breathy he almost didn't recognize his own voice. 

He wanted Link to feel better.

He wanted Link to cum.

In his arms.

All for his selfish enjoyment.

"I got you, Bo." Rhett's hands clenched bruising on Link's biceps. He could feel the sweat soaking through the back of Link's t-shirt against his fore-arm, the smell of Link’s deodorant heady and strong.

"Hurts." Link confessed, breathing too fast.

And fuck, enough was enough already.

"Do it." There was an edge of steel command in Rhett's voice that made Link whine. 

"Cum for me." Rhett urged. 

And Link, obedient -broken- _finally_ , groped the bulge over his pants.

His eyes got wide and he gazed straight at Rhett with inky-black pupils; in that second, Rhett registered that he was going to get kissed.

He was going to get kissed by Link. 

For the first time.

Not on camera.

And he was okay with that.

Christ.

Time jumped and skipped a beat. Rhett had a hard time following the progression of events, his head was spinning too much. One second he was opening his mouth for the kiss that his entire soul suddenly craved. The next one, Link was crushing himself into Rhett's embrace with a sexy whimper, breath hot against Rhett's neck. _Ok, no kiss then_. Link’s mouth grabbed onto the flesh over Rhett's collarbone, teeth clamping hard, _ow_ , and saliva soaked the fabric as Link moaned and jolted. His hand was working his cock through his jeans, Rhett could feel Link’s elbow moving against his chest they were so close.

Link came.

In his partner’s arms.

For the first time.

Rhett's ears popped and he was so hot, god. He almost thought he would go off untouched, he was that intensely turned on.

Christ.

Link stopped convulsing before Rhett's cock stopped kicking in unsatisfied pants hell. 

Rhett humped his hips a bit, thighs tense. He wondered how bothered Link would be if he stroked himself. Fair was fair, after all, and lord knew he needed to blow.

But then Link's plug was obviously turned off because the man melted into a satisfied purring puddle in Rhett's lap. And Rhett didn't have the heart to bother him, stroking slow circles on his best friend's back until too soon the quiet intimate moment was over.

Link pulled back into a kneeling position. He sheepishly peered at his life-long friend and there was so much emotion brimming in his expression that Rhett HAD to take a deep breath.

"Hey." Rhett said shakily. His thumb reached out unbidden to pull Link's bottom lip from between his teeth.

"You did good." 

Link blushed, streaky hair disheveled and falling over his forehead. His eyes were suspiciously wet. Rhett's too, for that matter.

 _Never_.

 _Ever_. 

Link reminded himself of his promise.

He needed a minute to gather the courage to push himself up with exagerated Dad noises and a wobbly "Shut up."

Emerging from behind the desk, Link finished snapping his masks back into placed. He waved away explanations tiredly, heading for the shower. 

He didn’t care, really.

He hoped the crew couldn't tell how weak his knees were. He couldn't even deal with whatever assumptions they might make at the moment.

He just needed to get away.

...

Since Link beat an understandable retreat, Rhett had to carry on the act of normalcy.

He hummed and hawed at the gushed explanation of how the malfunctioning remote had shorted out completely. 

Turns out Teresa had been holding it and she was definately not the pranking type.

"How did you get it to stop?" Rhett inquired, rubbing a hand over his face. It was tough to feign interest. Mostly, he wanted to get the heck out of the studio and remove the butt plug still in his own ass. And cum. Lord, did he need to cum. Maybe not in that order, he wasn't sure yet.

"I... I panicked." Teresa admitted. "I threw the remote to Jen when the buttons stopped working and you fell over."

"And?" Rhett turned to Jen. His heel was still squishing to his shoe with lube.

"I took the batteries out." Jen answered with a shrug in her usual unperturbed monotone.

The rest of the gang tittered around them, so Rhett arched an eye-brow.

Stevie held up a mangled plastic box with wires dangling from it.

"You need a screw-driver, usually." she pointed out.

"Ah." Rhett turned to go. "Thanks."

Walking was... Interesting. Rhett shivered.

"Jen." he called over his shoulder. "You get a raise."

Appropriate laughter sounded behind him and Rhett walked away.

...

Things were okay. 

Link was going to be okay. 

They were okay.

The gang suspected Link had been forced to orgasm, probably, but he didn't think they were going to actually mock Link, given how sheepish they all looked. They felt responsible for the mishap. They were good people, their team.

Stevie would probably make Rhett and Link have an awkward talk with her next week. Yeah.

They had a long week-end off before. It was supposed to be nice out.

Rhett would make sure their families did something together, to enforce how unchanged their relationship was.

The butt-plug incident would fade into the rest of their stupid shit.

Rhett was okay. Rhett...

Rhett was going to secretly treasure their private moment together behind the desk forever. 

Link was going to refuse to discuss it much, probably. It was fine. Rhett knew why Link maintained status quo.

He was quite sure Link was not as straight as he'd proclaimed to be when he was younger. And way kinkier.

It didn't bother him. He was happy Link was finding peace with himself as he grew older. 

The hallway echoed around Rhett, giving him goosebumps. He stopped outside the door to Link's bathroom, listening to the water run.

For one wild moment, he entertained the fantasy of opening that door and joining his best friend.

 _No_.

Rhett’s fingers released the handle and he trudged to the second bathroom. 

Eventually, maybe. In a few years. If the time was right. When the kids were grown.

Before today, Rhett had never imagined he might look forward to sex with Link. An eventual encounter had seemed inevitable for a while now, and Rhett had accepted the thought as just one more thing he would do for his friend.

Rhett's penis kicked hard as he tugged his pants open, reminding him that he had very much enjoyed having Link in his arms.

Trying it naked would be even better. Rhett’s lips still tingled for that aborted kiss.

Well.

Rhett would have to be careful not to let his curiosity get the best of him, then. Until Link was ready.

...

Wrapping a large hand around his swollen cock, Rhett set himself to the pressing business of having the orgasm of his life. 

Because clearly, the answer to “Can we keep readin’ despite this vibratin’” was, in Rhett’s case, a resounding NO.

**Author's Note:**

> Please step away if you are under-age. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments!  
> Xxx  
> FrenchCaresse


End file.
